


Color Theory

by ElloMenoP



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Lingerie, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloMenoP/pseuds/ElloMenoP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr request. Heavy and Medic only see the world in black and white, until a one night stand bring each man a color of the spectrum and a desire for the whole rainbow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color Theory

Medic stiffly got out of bed and wasn’t surprised that his guest from last night had already slipped away. He stretched, and cracked his back and found his body sore in the best way. In his dresser mirror he was nothing but a blurry gray shape, he grabbed his glasses off his nightstand and his vision went from fuzzy to sharp lines and definition, though his vision was still gray. In the mirror he could see evidence of last night’s activities, dark black bite marks on his neck, long gray scratches on his shoulders, and deep purple bruises on his hips.

 

Awe could not begin to describe Medic’s feelings. His whole life he had never seen colors, everything had aways been in hues of gray, or absolute blacks and whites. It had never mattered to him before, it seemed natural and if he was honest he didn’t need them anyway. The finger bruises on his hips had him hypnotized though. 

 

The contrast between the purple and his pale skin was breathtaking, he slowly ran his fingers over the marks, pressed against them so he could feel the soreness. He nearly moaned at the pain, and he could just barely feel Heavy’s hands on him again, the strength in the fingers and the way they easily pushed him around. He broke out of his trance, if he wasn’t careful he’d be late for the battle. He quickly dressed and joined the rest of his team.

 

As he predicted, Heavy avoided him, the man gave him one curt nod and focused on devouring his plate of sausage and eggs. Normally Medic would not care, normally he was a fan of one night stands but Heavy had left behind more than a sore body, he left Medic with a longing, the bruises would fade and with them the color. He couldn’t allow that.

 

The battlefield wasn’t the best place to discuss their personal affairs, but he couldn’t foresee the Heavy giving him the time of day any where else. He followed the man close, keeping his medigun’s healing focused on him while he focused on the right words to say. “Herr Heavy!” He called ahead.

 

He could tell by the way the man stiffened and flinched that he had heard him, but he kept jogging ahead anyway. Medic growled with annoyance, then he stopped healing Heavy. Up ahead the Russian came to a dead stop, he turned around with scowl. “What?” He snapped.

 

“Last night-”

 

Heavy was already turning back toward the battle, shaking his head and winding up his minigun. “Nothing happened.”

 

A mocking laugh escaped Medic’s throat. “ _Ja_ , sure, a whole night of nothing,” he bit out.

 

The Heavy snarled and charged the doctor, he grabbed him by the shirt front and slammed him against a boulder. If Heavy had dwelled on the night like Medic had then he would have known that sort of action was just the thing that would keep the German interested. Medic wished that the Heavy’s strong fingers were around his throat instead, crushing his airway and leaving another set of purple bruises to be appreciated. “We need to talk,” Medic said gently.

 

The Heavy dropped him and picked up his gun from the ground. “We have nothing to talk about.” He turned back to the battle and revved his minigun, pointed it and began spraying bullets. Medic did not follow, instead he ran after Soldier and took pleasure in the angry face Heavy made at him as he passed. 

 

The rest of the battle was fought like that, Medic passive aggressively healing Heavy but leaving him on his own when health was what he needed most. The large man retaliated by equipping his sandwich, though it barely compared to the Medic’s abilities, and Heavy would often be killed off by the enemy Scout or Pyro while he was munching away.

 

By the end of the day Heavy got the message, he’d have to speak with doctor if he wanted any sort of cooperation on the battlefield. He waited patiently for their locker room to empty out and when it finally did Heavy turned to the doctor and let his blank face speak for him.

 

Medic calmly continued dressing at his locker, he sat down on the wooden bench to remove his boots and slip into his dress shoes. “I normally don’t care for these sorts of things,” he began, “relationships seem meaningless to me. I rarely even have an interest in sex.”

 

Heavy hoped this confession was leading to some sort of secrecy pact. The last thing he needed was to lose his job over one indiscretion, no matter how gratifying it had been. He could remember being utterly stunned by Medic, he had never met a man so enthralled by his strength, never met a man that wanted to feel the full force of his fists. He couldn’t believe the way Medic’s erection persisted through the rough slamming and his sharp bites, he couldn't believe that man begged for more with each thrust. The very last thing he could believe was the ring of red teeth marks he left on Medic’s neck. It had been a long time since he’d seen red, not since he was a child. 

 

“So what? You do not want Heavy as lover? Good, I do not want to be your lover,” he fired back. 

 

“That is not what I-” Medic sighed. He wasn’t sure what he meant himself, he had never been in this position before. “You left something behind.”

 

“What?” Heavy asked sharply.

 

“Purple.”

 

Heavy’s brows knitted together with confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

Medic stood up and began pulling his shirt up and unbuckling his belt. “Let me show you,” he breathed. He pulled up his shirt and revealed his pale hip and along with them the dark bruises. He expected some sort of reaction, awe or elation, but Heavy’s face showed no expressions. Medic was disappointed, he tucked his shirt back in. “So everything is still black and white for you?”

 

The bruises were just black marks on a white body to him, but he wondered if the bite on Medic’s neck was still red or if it had faded to gray by now. Heavy’s lack of confirmation or denial was noted by the German, and had got him wondering. “Is it? Is everything black and white? Or do you now see colors?”

 

Heavy ignored the questioning, turned to leave, and Medic rushed to stop him. The doctor placed one hand on his arm and Heavy instantly recoiled. “ _Nyet_!” He roared. “No! You do not understand!” Medic withdrew at the sudden outburst and Heavy took the opportunity to get in his face. “I have obligation, I have...” he struggled to find the right word, searching his mind for the perfect translation, “...I have _responsibility_.” He didn’t say to who, didn’t think he should have to.

 

Medic let the pursuing silence stay, let it roll over the two of them until it was too uncomfortable to remain in. Heavy chose to leave, but Medic couldn’t let it end, wouldn’t let the bruises fade. “What color was it?” He softly permeated the silence.

 

Heavy made an annoyed sound, but muttered, “Red.” 

 

Medic burst out laughing, long bitter laughs that were pissing Heavy off. “I’m sorry _mein freund_ , but,” he giggled, “but the Russian sees red first, that is too funny. Quite ironic, yes?”

 

Heavy did not find it funny, nor did he stay to tell the Medic so. He left and isolated himself from the team for days. No matter what the venture was Heavy ignored it, he stayed in his room tending to his precious guns and taking his meals separate from the the others. 

 

Medic, on the other hand, sought out company. He looked for any opportunity to distract himself, secretly hoping that inspiration would spring from extended company. He was never too good with others but progress started with observation. Though after three days in, Medic found the process nothing short of masochism. Engineer’s endless rambling coated in unnecessary, inflated prose left him with a murderous intent, and driving Scout into town was by far the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life.

 

“...so then the idiot goes and gets his head stuck in the fence! I don’t even know how! Like, what was he doing? Trying to run head first through the fence, man I’m telling you that guy-”

 

“Scout,” Medic ground out, “we have been parked here for twenty minutes.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m almost done-”

 

“That’s what you said twenty minutes ago,” Medic sighed. He got out of the car and came around the passenger side just as Scout was shutting his door. He pulled out a manila folder that contained the team’s invoice for their supply order and handed it over to Scout. “Here, please make yourself useful.”

 

The boy accepted the folder. “Yeah, okay- hey wait! Where are you going?!” He called after the German.

 

Medic gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder and continued down the sidewalk. “Away from you.”

 

He walked on for some time, aimlessly drifting between streets and peeking through shop windows. The sights reflected his mood, dull grays filled his eyes and bore him to no end, every street was blur of drab gray and a reminder of what he’d never see. Then as he was passing a store window he was struck by a vibrant purple, it was far brighter than the bruises had been, and twice as hypnotizing. The longer he stayed in front of the window the longer he ached for the whole rainbow, and worst of all he ached for the Heavy.

 

As much as he wanted to unlock each and every color of the spectrum he knew it would be impossible without the Russian by his side. He placed his palm on the cool window as if he could reach out and grasp the color for himself, then he eyed the garment to the side, it appeared gray to him, but it wouldn’t to the Heavy. As he entered the shop a little bell chimed and he interpreted it as encouragement.

 

\---

 

Heavy’s eyes narrowed and he growled to himself when he heard a knock at his door. He left his small bed and unlocked the door, opened it only sliver and shut it once he saw who was on the other side.

 

“Herr Heavy,” Medic’s voice carried through the door, it sounded too happy for it to be any good. “Please open the door, this will only take a moment.”

 

On the other side, Heavy crossed his arms and leaned against his door. “No.”

 

Medic rattled the door knob, and tried again, “It’s quite important.”

 

“Is about battle?” Heavy asked.

 

“No,” Medic admitted. “But it’s-”

 

“Then go away.” 

 

“Heavy!” Medic’s voice rose too loud for Heavy’s comfort.

 

The Russian opened his door just enough so he could look the doctor menacingly in the eye. “I told you, no more-”

 

Medic shoved his way past Heavy , he strolled into the room and sat down on the small bed. He gazed around the gray room trying to discern more about the man by his possessions but the room held very little. There was a single shelf, like each room had, with a few books all titled in Russian. There were boxes of bullets lying around, gun polish and old rags neatly set aside on the desk, and Heavy’s bandolier of bullets was hanging off of one of the wooden bedposts. All of these observations amounted to nothing, so Medic stood up and began undressing.

 

Heavy was aghast and he rushed to stop the man, he grabbed him by his shirtfront, the lab coat and vest had already been shed. He heaved him away from the bed and tossed him toward the door and Medic laughed loudly, “Herr Heavy at least wait for me to finish undressing.”

 

“Stop this!” Heavy shouted.

 

Medic smirked and arched a brow. “Careful you don’t want the others to hear,” he warned, and continued unbuttoning his shirt. He was happy to see that Heavy was visibly flustered, his eyes were wide and they kept searching the room as if his solution would be painted on the wall.

 

“Docktor, stop this, leave _now_ ,” Heavy struggled to keep his voice quiet, especially as Medic dropped his shirt to the floor, leaving him bare-chested. 

 

Medic ignored him and reached down to unlace his shoes and remove them. “No I don’t think I will.”

 

Heavy wanted to grab the man and toss him out, but the chances of being caught were too large. All he had on his side were his words, and those got caught in his throat as he watched Medic undress in front of him. “Doktor, please-”

 

The doctor had unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor, he casually stepped out of them and posed to show off his attire. Everything about him was dripping with invitation, the look on his face, they way he rested his hands on his hips. “Do you like the color?” 

 

Heavy felt like he was struck by a Soldier’s rocket, pieces of him flying in every direction. His rational parts went toward his family and paycheck, but his primal desires went straight toward the doctor. For years he sought to regain his colored vision, chased the colors through volumes of poetry hoping the black and white pages would bring him the vibrancy of his youth, yet it was an aging German man that gifted it back.

 

Standing in front of him, Medic was clad in bright red thigh highs, the sheer fabric hugged his pale gray skin tightly, and the top two inches of the garment was lace with straps ridding up the last of his thighs to met a pair of small red panties. Heavy could see stray pubic hairs sticking out along the edges of the elastic, and when his eyes travelled back down Medic’s long legs he saw his leg hair pressed flat by the material. Medic’s genitals were covered by a thin triangle of red fabric and that’s all that was covered. The rest of the panties were two, thin straps of red plastered around his hips that melted into one as they dipped between his ass cheeks. 

 

Heavy could not find the words to convey his gratitude, he had no idea how to put into words what it meant to him see red so vividly, but he found the words that Medic would want to hear most. “You’d look better black and blue.”

 

Medic’s beckoning smirk soften into a genuine smile, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Heavy’s. He was elated that the man had the capacity for gentleness, but more elated that the kiss ended with a sharp bite to his lower lip. From that point on there was nothing but rough, painful actions. Heavy slammed Medic into his desk, the doctor’s lower back taking the brunt of the pain.

 

Heavy forced Medic to lean back on his desk, knocking bullets and gun polish to ground. With Medic’s back  flat against the smooth wood Heavy grabbed the doctor’s wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. His other hand groped the doctor, starting at his chest and squeezing his pudgy flesh and letting his short fingernails dig into the skin. Medic moaned and ground his pelvis against Heavy’s, the Russian grunted and kept moving his hand down the doctor’s body to his legs, enjoying the feel of the smooth fabric. He pulled the straps and watched them snap back against Medic’s hips wondering how much it stung in comparison to a slap from his hand.

 

Then he realized he didn’t have to wonder, he pulled his hand back and slapped the doctor clear across his face. The man’s glasses went tumbling off and, to Heavy’s delight, a red splotch began to form on his face, along with a smile. With a clear indication that Heavy’s treatment was welcomed, the larger man pulled his hand back once more and smacked the other side of Medic’s face. Small gasps escaped Medic’s mouth but they were quickly replaced with groans once Heavy’s hand went back to groping the doctor, this time cupping the man’s bulge through the thin red fabric. “Achh _mehr_ , Heavy, more,” Medic pleaded. 

 

Heavy followed the path of his hand with his teeth, alternating between quick kisses and punishing bites. He left large indentations in the doctor’s skin that were just as red as the lingerie he wore. As he moved further down he released Medic’s hands and they immediately came forward to grasp the giant’s head. They didn’t try to steer him toward his cock or back up to his lips, they griped the Heavy but allowed him to pull the shots.

 

Heavy shoved his nose into Medic’s bulge and inhaled deeply, the doctor smelt like sweat but still fresh and clean. The fabric was soft against Heavy’s nose but Medic wasn’t, his erection was pressing against the panties making the tiny bit of fabric strain to stay in place. Even with Heavy so close to his cock Medic did not try to push him further and Heavy took that as a sign that it would be his decision to move along. He grabbed the doctor by his hips and quickly spun him around, slammed him back against the edge of the desk and pushed him forward so his ass was presented. “I am going to fuck you until you cry,” Heavy growled into Medic’s ear.

 

The doctor arched his back like a cat content to be pet, and purred back, “So long as you leave bruises.”

 

The large Russian bellowed and slapped Medic’s hindquarters, a big red hand print to match the lingerie and teeth marks. Heavy kept swinging his hand back to land slap after slap to one cheek, his other hand was shoved into Medic’s mouth getting a taste of the doctor’s fellatio skills. Even with his mouth full of Heavy’s thick fingers Medic’s grunts could be heard in the small room, every stinging smack to his behind elicited his approval.

 

After Medic’s cheek was becoming a deep red Heavy removed his salvia slick fingers from the doctor’s mouth and slid them between his ass cheeks, massaging the muscle and working the tip of his forefinger in. Medic bolted upright and yelped, “Lab coat.”

 

Heavy stopped his fingers. “Huh?”

 

“In my lab coat pocket,” he panted, stretched out one arm to point at the discarded clothing.  Heavy left the desk and snatched the coat up, searched one pocket and then the other, he pulled out a tiny bottle of personal lubricant. “Much more fitting than spit, I think,” Medic said.

 

The lube was cold, but that was soon forgotten in comparison to the burning sting of Heavy’s probing fingers. He shoved one thick finger in and barely gave two prods before adding another and another. Medic arched his back against the fingers, he loved the sting and the feel of being stretched to his limitations. Heavy laughed lightly, “You look like pornography.” He twisted his fingers inside the doctor and made him whimper. “With your lady’s clothes and all your mewling.”

 

“Ohh yess, keep talking,” Medic begged.

 

Heavy worked all three fingers into Medic until they stretched and poked the spongey bundle of nerves that made him twist and pant. He unzipped his fly with his free hand. “You are big slut aren’t you?”

 

“Mmm,” Medic sighed, and clenched around the fingers.

 

“Could not wait for more Heavy, had to barge into room,” he removed his fingers all at once and ignored Medic’s whine, “had to dress up like a whore in red stockings,” he lined his cock up with Medic’s hole and pushed in quickly, “you like being whore!”

 

“ _Ja! Ja! Ich will dich in mir spüren!_ ” Medic scrambled to grip the hard edge of the desk to brace himself. Heavy’s cock was as large as the rest of him, an impressive girth and length that filled Medic’s every crevice. Heavy set a fast pace and made a conscious effort to grab Medic’s hips roughly so he would leave the bruises the doctor liked so much. 

 

The pain of being stretched by Heavy soon subsided as the man thrust in and out of him. Medic was focusing on building up his pleasure, every thrust hit his prostate and sent jolts through his body and got him closer and closer to orgasm. His cock was still trapped in the red thong, tenting the fabric, as nice as the snug sensation was Medic reached down and pulled the garment aside. 

 

He wasted no time wrapping his hand around his erection and sliding it up and down, within seconds one of Heavy’s large hands joined him and Medic moaned out with need. The moan was joined by Heavy’s roaring, it was something in Russian that Medic couldn’t make out any more than the books on the shelf, but he knew why Heavy had resorted to his native tongue. He felt the giant tense and his fat fingers hold on even tighter as he rocked his hips into Medic while the pleasure of orgasm shot through his cock.

 

At the same time Medic spilled into his and Heavy’s hand, the pressure and pleasure had built up and he finally released in a series of shudders and moans. It was enough to make his toes curl in his red stockings, he ended slumped over the desk with Heavy leaning on him, both panting for air as their heart rates slowed to normal.

 

Unlike the first time they shared intimacy afterwards, snuggling together in Heavy’s small wooden bed and talking for hours. They praised the other on their sexual skill, Heavy pointed out where the red remained on Medic’s skin and the doctor swore he was beginning to see the color himself. Heavy explained the poetry books in his room and how he hoped they’d inspire a rainbow spectrum. Medic talked about always being content with black and white, how he believed it suited him perfectly with his personality and profession. 

 

Medic smiled, and said softly, “But now I realize how stupid I was, all the imagery I’ve missed out on.” He sounded sad, and Heavy was about to suggest reading a poem, but the doctor continued. “I hope I see blue next.”

 

“Why blue?” Heavy asked.

 

The man in his arms lightly laughed and shifted to rest his head on Heavy’s chest. “According to your medical file your eyes are blue.”

 

Once again Heavy was left speechless, he could not find words in English or Russian to express how deeply that statement ran. He could not believe he found a man that had spent a lifetime seeing black and white wish for only the blues in his eyes. With an inability to form words Heavy allowed for his actions to speak for him as he kissed Medic deeply.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Demisexual Medic FTW!!!!  
> [ello-meno-p](http://ello-meno-p.tumblr.com/) FTW!!!


End file.
